Crushed
by LiesofDevotion
Summary: One darkhaired girl, one desperation, and one Valentine's Day spent bitterly alone. A oneshot.


She spent Valentine's Day alone.

Not that she couldn't have found a date. She was all too conscious of their stares, the too long looks they threw her way. Last year, she would have grinned and tossed her dark hair over her shoulders, watching from the corners of her eyes as they snuck peeks her way.

Her dark hair had always been an asset. It curled down her back, nearly to her waist. Her mother once told her that her hair was like midnight, falling stars. She had still been a child then, starstruck and too young to understand her own influence. This was before first year, before recieving her acceptance letter, before she danced excitedly under the stars, outside of her ramshackle house that her mother had stopped taking the time to care for.

At first, she had been self-conscious, wandering the hallways that changed. It felt like even the pictures were staring, and whispering as she walked past. But she had learned to use her sexuality to her advantage; she could hide her insecurities and shortcomings in a flirtacious smile and a short cut skirt.

That didn't help here though.

Despite all the dates, all the hours she had spent curling her eyelashes and carefully applying makeup, she couldn't attract him to her. Someone, she wasn't sure who (too many lovers to count these days), had told her she was like honey, and they were all flies. She had, of course, laughed, and continued to tease, but deep down, she had felt loved for the first time in years.

She wished it was enough for him though, to be easy. Another forgotten someone had told her she was beautiful, and she had laughed. His face was forgotten, but those words, those words drawn out of a torn and tattered mouth, stayed with her. She wished it was true, that she didn't know it to be otherwise.

She had approached him more than once, to try to pique his interest. Once on the train, and she had attempted to get him at Slughorn's party. Any other boy would have smiled, grabbed her hand, tried to make her stay, but he didn't seem to react at all. His green eyes remained cool; he thanked her, but never once did his eyes flash when he saw her, or did he seem to flush, red creeping over his features.

She didn't know why she wanted him so badly. Maybe it was the fact that he had turned her down. But she got more and more desperate as the year went by. Her necklines plunged, her skirts rose. She brushed his arm in the hallways, trying to get a look, a question, anything, but he never reacted.

She saw the way he looked at Ginny, when he thought no one was looking. The first time she caught that sappy grin on his face she had wanted to smack it off. She spent the rest of the day fuming in the girl's bathroom, ignoring her teachers and wallowing in self-pity.

And then, Slughorn's party came along. He hadn't invited anyone yet, of course, but she saw the way he was looking at Ginny. She nearly screamed; ducking out of the hallway, she let out a shriek of rage. First years scattered, startled, and teachers glanced out of their offices. She collected herself, but couldn't bring herself to face Harry again. She ran back to her room.

Yanking out the chocolates someone had given her (she hadn't even paid attention to his face; he wasn't as important as Harry), she whispered something into them, and brought out her wand. She waved it quickly, and hurried back out of the room, clutching them to her chest.

She was desperate. This was her last chance to get his attention, and even if it failed, she would be seeing him soon enough. The love spell she had woven in would take effect within a couple minutes, and then she could hold him to her, and keep him there. All she needed was the opportunity.

He climbed through the portrait hole as she headed down the stairs. Perfect. "Harry!" she called out, forcing her way through the crowd.

If she didn't know better, she would have thought his eyes flickered to Hermione. She continued on, brazenly. "Here, take these chocolates!" she exclaimed, and thrust them at Harry. "They're full of Firewhisky, and I don't like them too much," she lied, fingers crossed behind her back.

"Oh..." he stuttered, and she cursed him mentally. "Thanks, I guess." He hurried off quickly.

"Damnit!" she swore, and hurried off. Tearing open the door to the girls dorm, she threw herself onto the bed, and swiped angrily at her eyes.

She didn't know why she needed his attention, but she did. And the days passed on, without change. She gave up trying to chase him, looking his way hopefully as he passed through the halls. He never looked her way though. Sighing, she took to turning down dates, mooning over him, and ignoring her friends. Valentine's Day came and went.

Romilda spent Valentine's Day alone.


End file.
